


Putting Up With You

by aintweproudriff



Category: Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker & Taylor
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author talks too much about Great Expectations sorry, F/M, I know I said I'd keep everything canon era but this is too good, I'm just trying to understand this book, Jimmy's a gay disaster, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Working on a project together au, great expectations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintweproudriff/pseuds/aintweproudriff
Summary: Davy asks Jimmy to be his partner on a class project, forcing their usual partners, Wayne and Nick, to pair off. What's easy for Jimmy and Davy isn't so easy for Nick and Wayne.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hooray for Thanksgiving break; I can finally write fic again!!!

Jimmy didn’t hate group projects. In fact, he’d done some that had been quite good, since he’d done them with similarly-motivated friends. But since joining marching band, he had found himself to be running in a circle of people less interested in school than himself. He normally did projects on his own, when he could, since doing them with friends took his interest away from the work and lowered his grade. His mom had asked if it might be worth it to quit band, since his load of AP and honors classes was so heavy his senior year, but he wasn’t about to do that. Not when music was the one thing that could pull his head out of the stress cloud he wove for himself. 

“You will present a project on symbolism, allusions, or another literary device in Great Expectations, and how that usage contributes to the meaning of the story as a whole,” Mr. Bradford told the class on a Wednesday afternoon. “You must be in pairs of two. No more, no less; our class has twenty-eight, and everyone is here today, so that makes it easy. The only condition is that your project cannot be a slideshow. You’ve got the rest of the period to work. Go.”

Jimmy sighed, closing his eyes. He knew he had to get moving and pick a partner, or he’d be stuck with someone who really didn’t care, but he couldn’t be bothered. He was just telling himself to open his eyes when he heard a voice. 

“Dude. You okay?”

He opened his eyes to see Davy Zlatic standing in front of him, squinting so hard Jimmy wondered if he could even see. 

“Yeah, fine. Fine,” Jimmy answered. 

“That’s good,” Davy laughed, and Jimmy watched a considerable amount of tension dissolve from his face. “Um, I was wondering. I think you and I are the only ones who take this class seriously. So. Do you want to be partners?” He rubbed his thumb on the inside of his palm like he was trying to drill a hole. 

Jimmy considered it. He didn’t know Davy well. He did know, however, that Davy played standing bass in jazz band, got along well with almost everyone he’d ever met, was (admittedly) attractive, and loved AP Lit. He maybe didn’t care as much as Jimmy did about grades, and it may have been a stretch to say he took the class seriously. During the poetry unit, Davy wrote a sonnet to pizza. And it was really good. Perfect iambic pentameter, clever rhymes, a well-placed allusion to Roman mythology. He didn’t take school seriously, but he loved it. And he was a little lazy, but not altogether undedicated.  
Besides, most people already had a partner. He decided Davy would do. 

“Okay,” Jimmy grinned. “Sure.”

Davy’s face broke into a beaming smile. “Good,” he nodded. “I really love Nick,” he said, gesturing to the boy on his phone across the room, “but he doesn’t really get Great Expectations.”

“Hey!” Nick looked up. “I understand the book!”

Davy shrugged. “Yeah, but you also don’t like it. You only keep your grades up so you won’t be put on obligation and disqualified from playing soccer.” He turned to look at Jimmy. “Besides, we already decided.”

“Um, if I’m gonna cause a fight, I can go work with Wayne,” Jimmy suggested, mostly to Nick. 

Wayne, from a nearby desk, jerked his head up. “Wait. You mean we’re not working together? We did the last project together, I thought it was a given this time.”

“No, um, actually, Davy and I just decided to be partners. But-”

“Maybe Nick and Wayne could partner!” Davy slammed his hand on a desk. “Problem solved!”

Nick’s hand shot up. “No,” he looked at Davy, aghast. 

“Absolutely not,” Wayne shook his head. “He hates me.”

“He does not!” Davy exclaimed. “He just-” he and Jimmy turned to Nick, who was nodding as if to say that he did. “Well, okay, but it works out. We get to do our A-plus project, and you guys aren’t working alone.”

“I could do an A-plus project if I wanted to,” Wayne interjected. 

“Yeah, as soon as you get over planning out every single little detail of it and actually start on it,” Jimmy laughed in spite of himself, regretting his harshness only a little. It was true, after all, and Wayne’s work habits had nearly cost him a letter grade on their last project. “Otherwise you end up doing everything the night before, and it’s nothing near what you planned.”

Wayne huffed, but didn’t say anything. 

“I could do an A-plus project too,” Nick raised his eyebrows. “If I understood what the fucking book was saying.”

Davy looked at Wayne. “Do you know what the book is saying?”

“Yeah,” Wayne shrugged. “It isn’t that hard.”

Jimmy turned to Nick. “And you have creative ideas on how to make a presentation?”

“Sure. Diagrams and shit.”

“See?” Jimmy felt himself get excited on their behalf. “Work together, you’ll be a good pair.”

Nick stood up, rocketing out of his seat. “No we won’t. It won’t work.”

“I think so too. Can’t do it,” Wayne shoved his hands out in front of him. “Can’t we just pair off like we did last time?”

Jimmy was about to agree. Maybe this wasn’t a fight worth fighting.  
But he turned his head to ask Davy if they could give it a rest, and saw Davy staring down Nick; they seemed to be holding a private, silent conversation full of raised eyebrows and mouthed ‘please’s. Nick threw his hands into the air, and Davy smiled, victorious. 

Jimmy wasn’t stupid. Obviously, he was far from it. He knew a discussion about a crush between best friends when he saw one. He’d had many similar exchanges with Wayne when he’d like Donny Novitski, or when Wayne had liked Johnny Simpson. The only thing he couldn’t figure out was if Nick or Davy had a crush. Nick would make more sense; he acted defensive around Wayne to the point that Wayne thought he hated him, but Jimmy had seen he way Nick all but swooned when Wayne hit a high note. Davy, however, made less sense. Jimmy didn’t see a reason for Davy to like him, but there was most certainly a crush involved here, and if it wasn’t Nick and Wayne-  
Maybe it was worth taking that chance. 

“Nope,” Jimmy said decidedly. “This is how it’s gonna be. And we’re gonna deal with it if we don’t like it. Davy? Do you have thoughts on a literary device to analyze?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a second chapter up sooner, but I've been so sick! Oh well, it's here now, and I kinda like it!
> 
> Sorry for all the Great Expectations references; I’m using this fic to help me with my homework a little. In coming chapters there will be fewer

Wayne sat down across from Nick. How Jimmy and Davy had managed to stick him with this sour lot, he couldn't imagine. And yet, if he had to deal with it, he may as well do his best on the project. He could show Jimmy that he was more than a procrastinating perfectionist. 

"So?" he asked. "What could we present on?"

Nick passed him his phone, open to the Sparknotes page on symbols. "Some of these could be good."

Wayne clicked his black pen and turned to a new, blank page in his notebook. 

"Okay," he dotted bullet points and printed the ideas. "Any thoughts from your brain?"

Nick pursed his lips at the jab, but thought on it. "What about Wemmick? And that castle where he lives with the moat?"

Wayne nodded and copied it down, adding two more bullet points for Mr. Jaggers and Estella. He passed the notebook to Nick. "Does that look like enough ideas to choose from?"

Nick read the list, and pointed to the last item, tapping the paper repeatedly. "What do you think Estella's symbolism is? How could we present on her?"

"She represents a ton of stuff, did you even read the book?" Wayne shook his head. "She's the romantic interest, so she represents like, puppy love, but also Pip's constant want and need to be better than his original status and become a gentleman."

Nick closed his folder, glancing up at the clock. "Y'know, when I read the book, I thought I might like to present on Estella. But only if you get what she actually represents. You're on the right track, but if you can't get there-" he shrugged, and Wayne felt his face get hot. 

He looked over to where Davy and Jimmy sat, Jimmy scribbling ideas on a sheet of paper, smiling and hiting Davy's arm jokingly with his free hand. Wayne rolled his eyes at how happy his friend got to be, while he was taking this kind of treatment from Nick. 

"Oh, okay," Wayne swallowed heavily, and took a deep breath. "If I'm stupid and don't understand, could you please at least have the decency to ex-fucking-splain it to me?"

"Nah. I'd rather know that we're on the same level and going to be pulling equal weight on this project. I'll sink to your level so you don't have to struggle to get to mine. Let's do the duality of Wemmick, if that's easier." Nick leaned back in his chair and practically smiled, the bastard, his chin high in the air. 

Wayne looked away to regain his composure. 

"I can pull my damn weight," he said when he turned around to look at Nick again. Nick stared him down challengingly, not moving his head even once. "But if you want us to be equals, you've got to act like we are. Treat me like I know a thing or two, because I know what I'm doing. And if you want to do something with this project, tell me clearly, so I can pitch in. Is that understood?"

"Yeah," Nick nodded. Wayne thought he might have heard him say something about 'control freak,' but he decided to let it go. 

"Okay. Glad we could agree," Wayne nodded back at him. "I'm - I'm honestly interested in your ideas about Estella. Can you tell me them?"

Nick leaned forward, like he had been waiting for a moment to speak. "Okay, so she's basically Pip's foil. She tells him he's common, he wants to be wealthy like her. And she represents his inner monologue and insecurity. When he gets a taste of money or opportunity, it's instantly squandered by this Estella voice in his head telling him to go for more. But at the same time, Estella's being destroyed by her money. It's tearing away at her. Her foster mother raises her to break men's hearts while herself being heartless, which wrecks her emotionally. She literally says multiple times that she doesn't have a heart-"

_Like someone Wayne knew_

"And she can't love. But then she marries the rich asshole, and he makes her miserable. Ironically, at the end of the book, we find out she was born lower than Pip," he put his feet in the aisle between his desk and Wayne's, "and if she had just stayed with her poor and criminal parents and married Pip, she would have been much happier, even fulfilled like we assume she becomes at the end of the novel when she and Pip meet again.”

Wayne blinked. “Wow. I like it; the tragedy of Estella.”

Nick smiled at Wayne for what he was sure was the first time ever. “Exactly!” he slammed his hands on the desk. “That could be the title of our project.”

“A storybook!”

“Called ‘The Tragedy of Estella’.”

Wayne grinned. “I like it.”

“Of course you do,” Nick shook his head. “You said it.”

The two of them looked at each other for a long moment before Wayne turned back to his notebook and pen, feeling slightly redder than before. 

“Now-” Wayne said, the bell ringing and interrupting him. “Damnit.”

Wayne watched as Nick stood up, pulled his backpack over his shoulders, puffing up his chest just so as he did, and started to walk before stopping suddenly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Wright,” he turned around a few degrees and did something that might have resembled a wave. 

Wayne waved after him, knowing Nick wouldn’t see it. He sighed and neatly clipped his notebook back into his binder. 

“How are you and the timebomb?” Jimmy asked on their way out the door. 

“Actually, I think we might just work,” Wayne chuckled, smiling down the hall after him like his happiness might find Nick somewhere. “How are you and your new crush?”

Jimmy fumbled. “I don’t have a -”

“Yeah, you do. I know when you do. And you get crushes more than you get common colds. More than you get Bs on assignments.”

“Tsk. Shut up.”

Wayne laughed, taking bigger steps so he wouldn’t be late for his next class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments really help me write a little faster, and I love them so much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said there would be less Great Expectations talk, but. It's not much, really.

Very few things in the entire world frustrated Jimmy more than someone knowing what he thought he knew better than him. That included, maybe especially meant, people knowing him better than he knew himself. So when Wayne accused him of having a crush on Davy, he thought it impossible. No one knew Jimmy better than Jimmy. And if Jimmy had a crush, he'd know it.   
So he thought to himself at nine o'clock at night, rereading the scene in which Pip first met Estella. He found her to be the most beautiful person in the world as soon as he looked at her, which Jimmy noted in the margins of his book. He couldn't exactly say he knew the feeling, but he did remember the first time he saw Davy. 

He'd known of Davy Zlatic since he'd started high school. Cellist in the orchestra, bassist in jazz band by sophomore year. The very same jazz band, of course, where Jimmy played saxophone but only talked to the other brass instruments, too afraid of other people to go outside his bubble.   
And upon seeing Davy for the first time, he'd been able to admit he was impressed. Soon, it became clear he wasn't alone in that sentiment. Rather, all the girls in band, orchestra, and choir (and a few boys, mostly from the choir), equally appreciated the ways Davy's time on the football team and at the gym showed. As this became apparent, and as Jimmy realized that if he was Davy's friend he'd end up as a giant puddle of thirst, Jimmy's friends - Wayne included - advised him to move to easier pursuits. Which worked fine, all things considered. He got that quick thing with Donny out of it. 

When he and Davy properly met, however, wasn't until their junior year, in AP Language and Composition. The two of them were consistently the two top scorers on quizzes and essays, and ended up paired together more than once to revise each others' papers.   
And Davy had only gotten smarter and funnier and more attractive since the first time Jimmy noticed him two years previously. 

After a year had passed since that time, it had gotten worse. Or better, Jimmy wasn't really sure. Davy's beard had begun to actually look good, and although he had quit football years ago, he still worked out, and it was maybe more obvious than before. He'd dated enough people - girls and boys - that he'd decided to go single for a while, which only made Jimmy's head spin. 

But Jimmy was not so shallow that he would jump at the first attractive man with muscles and a beard who happened to be single, and he was certainly not so unprofessional that he would get a crush on a person with whom he was working on a project. Wayne and his suggestions could go to hell. 

Nevermind that the whole thing with Donny Novitski had started when he was over at Jimmy’s studying for algebra. Jimmy was older and wiser now, and knew better than to get involved. 

Really, it was only luck that he picked up his phone from where it laid next to him right before it began to ring. "Davy Zlatic" read the caller id, so Jimmy picked it up and let his thumb hover over the answer button, remembering that day in class when he'd passed Davy his phone and let him put his contact in. 

"Hello?" Jimmy answered, trying to steady his breath. Why it was so fast, he couldn't figure out. 

"Hi Jim," Davy responded, and Jimmy grimaced, not being overly fond of being called that. "I was thinking."

"Alright?"

"Okay, so, I wasn't really thinking. I was playing poker after school with some band kids," Davy amended. 

Jimmy blinked at the unexpected sentence, but didn't say anything, deciding to let Davy continue. 

"One of the cards is called -" he laughed lowly, and Jimmy wondered if he wasn't just a little tipsy, "it's called a Pip card. Says it on the card and everything. And I was thinking about how Estella beggars Pip in their first card game twice in a row. She takes all the cards from the deck, so he has nothing. And then I was thinking about how Miss H kind of takes everything from Estella-"

"Metaphorically, maybe," Jimmy interrupted. "And ironically, since she does give her money."

"Right, right. Metaphorically, obviously, Miss Havisham beggars Estella. And then that one bastard, the one whose name starts with a C, he metaphorically takes everything from Miss Havisham."

"He beggars her," Jimmy nodded in understanding, despite knowing that Davy couldn't see him. 

"Exactly!" Davy yelled, making it impossible for Jimmy to hold back a smile. "But Pip is given things, and in the end, he kind of beggars himself."

Jimmy considered this, then figured that - even if Davy was drunk - it was probably as good an analysis as any. "Okay. Are you suggesting we put this in our project?"

"I'm suggesting we use this as our project, Jim! Could we use a deck of cards to show different people-"

"-a queen for Miss Havisham, a jack for Pip?"

"Yes! And then we show who gets the prize of money or happiness in the end with cards or poker chips or something?"

"I like it, Davy," Jimmy grinned. 

His celebration was audible, shouting and clapping on the other end. "Cool! Figure the rest out tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow it is," Jimmy agreed. "Sounds good to me."

"See you tomorrow, Jimmy," Davy said, laughing for reasons unknown, before hanging up.   
He smiled at his phone as he set it back down on the bed, and tried to push the conversation out of his head. Picking up his pen again, he tired to take notes on that section of the book. But as he read, he couldn't keep his thoughts off of it and off of Davy. 

What kind of person sees something innocent, while playing after-school poker, of all things, and relates it back to their Literature project, ultimately coming up with an idea that might be A-worthy in it of itself? And then what kind of person gets excited and drunk and calls their project partner to go over it, instead of waiting for the next day?

A Davy Zlatic kind of person, apparently. And if that was the kind of person Davy was all the time, excited and interesting and invested, then Jimmy was absolutely screwed. 

He didn't know what was worse: that he now had a crush on Davy Zlatic, a crush he had been adamant he would not get because it would cause all kinds of problems within the project, or that now he would have to tell Wayne he had been right, and admit that Wayne knew him better than he knew himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for chapter 3!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa i love this fic and I love having a definitive plan of what's going to happen (ish)

Wayne never would have guessed he’d end up sitting quietly, almost at peace, at Nick Radel’s kitchen table. In fact, a week ago, the idea would have revolted him. Now, however, he didn’t mind it. Really. The house was a little messy, no doubt about it. But it wasn’t a bad mess. Shoes kicked off and laid recklessly by the couch, Nick’s backpack and his sister’s papers on a cedar chest in the corner. It was less tidy than Wayne’s own home, obviously. But it felt nice. Homey, almost. 

“Thanks for coming over,” Nick said, and Wayne wondered if Nick was trying to use the action of filling water glasses as a way to avoid looking Wayne in the eye when he said something nice. “I know it was short notice, and you don’t love that.” He passed Wayne the glass. “But it didn’t work for me to come over to your place.”

Wayne took a sip of water, trying to catch hold of his breathing. “Had to be done one way or another,” he shrugged. “I mean - we need to get work done. And if I don’t make myself do it now, I may never get it done at all.”

“I get it,” Nick laughed, and Wayne smiled instinctively at the sound. “I’m the same when I don’t like an assignment.”

Wayne nodded. “I think everyone does that, a little bit. But it’s not even that I don’t like the project, because I don’t mind it. I just procrastinate when I worry. And I worry a lot. Apparently, Jimmy seems to think I do it too much.”

“I can see you doing that, actually. It makes sense, knowing you. I mean, why would you try at all if you can’t get it just right?” Nick leaned on the countertop calmly, his hand clutching his water glass tightly. 

Wayne scoffed. “Well. If proving that I don’t do that is what it’s going to take to get Jimmy to work with me again so that I don’t ever have to be stuck with you again, I’m willing to put in the work.”

As Wayne realized what he’d said, Nick pursed his lips and set his glass down on the counter. “Huh,” he said, and smiled in a way that made his eyes pop out of his head worryingly. “We’d better get to work then.”

Wayne downed his water like it was a shot and he needed liquid confidence - or patience - to get through the next few minutes with Nick. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

The two of them moved to the floor of the living room to work. Wayne used his best cursive to write their points on pages that he had destroyed with coffee and curvy scissors, and Nick glued the pages into the binding Wayne had made. They worked in uncomfortable silence for a while, long enough that four pages had gone into the book by the time Nick said something. 

“Do you think Davy and Jimmy like each other?”

Wayne laughed, but didn’t look up. “Yes, of course. Davy was so nervous to talk to Jimmy when he asked him to be his partner on the project - did you see him that first day? And he’s pretty much the best things about every guy Jimmy has ever liked combined, so-”

“Do you think they’ll hook up?”

He hummed and clicked his pen. “Probably. Eventually. I think they’re both the kind of guy to go for what they want.”

“Do you think they’ll hook up during this project?”

“If they play their cards right, yeah,” Wayne nodded. 

Nick paused, and then chuckled. “So by working together, we might be getting the two of them together.”

Wayne rolled his eyes. “Why are you interrogating me about this, and not Davy? Have you asked him if he likes Jimmy?”

“Nah. Davy’s an asshole,” Nick replied, and Wayne laughed. He was a little surprised to hear Nick swear when his mom was upstairs, since his parents would have yelled at him for using foul language in the house, but he shrugged it off.

“And I’m not?”

“Well, you are,” Nick allowed, “but not about Jimmy and Davy.”

Wayne looked up for the first time in the conversation. He was planning on asking what he was an asshole about, but he saw what Nick was doing and couldn’t continue his line of thought. 

“Why are you gluing them in wrong?” he asked, feeling his face scrunching up despite his best efforts to keep it calm. 

“What?” Nick’s hands froze in midair as he looked up. 

“The pages,” Wayne pointed. “Why aren’t you aligning them? They should be set nicely together, like they would be in a book.”

Nick blinked hard and long, and stuttered. “I thought we were trying to make it look old and worn. Tragic, you know?”

“It does look old and worn,” Wayne breathed heavily. “I cut the edges so they’re ruined, soaked the pages in coffee grounds, and found a worn leather binding to use. It looks like an old book. But even old books had the pages in line.”

Nick swallowed and clicked his tongue. “This. This is what you’re an asshole about. Everything has to be perfect for you, huh?”

“This is my grade!” Wayne said before he could stop himself, his fingers curling in toward his palm. “Of course it has to be perfect. This project matters to me. I would’ve thought you would have known that, since I did all the work to get the supplies for the book in the first place.”

“Well I had all the ideas,” Nick tried to say, but Wayne could barely hear him. 

“Ideas are good and all, but all you had to do for the practical side of this project was make the damn project look good, Nick. And you didn’t do that. Really?”

He watched Nick’s shoulders rise and fall, his chest shaking. He looked like he wanted to throw the book down, stand up, and kick Wayne until he couldn’t breathe. But Nick closed his eyes. 

“I think I can do the rest of this, Wayne,” Nick said quietly. “You’ve done a lot already, like you said. I don’t think you should worry anymore. In fact, why don’t you go home? I’ll do the rest.”

The quiet, controlled tone made Wayne more worried than he had been when he thought Nick would hurt him. “Nick-” 

“No.” Nick’s eyes flew open, and his jaw clenched. “Just get out of my house, Wayne. You’ve done enough today.”

Not knowing what else to do, Wayne stood up. He reached for the book, but Nick wordlessly stuck his hand out over it and shook his head.   
Wayne moved to the doorway, simultaneously hearing thousands of thoughts and none at all. He slipped his shoes on, picked up his backpack, and walked out the door, not checking to see if Nick was behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jdfalskjf I love these boys  
> I didn't talk that much about Great Expectations, but I did talk about Oscar Wilde (hi @indigo_penstrokes). Can you really blame me?

The two of them had done so much work on the project already, but Jimmy wasn't one to turn down an invitation to spent time with Davy. Especially if he could get coffee out of it. And pretend (just a little) that the two of them were on a date to get coffee together.  
He parked his car - somewhat crookedly - in the tiny parking lot of the coffee shop Davy had suggested. Wringing his hands, he stepped into the building and was instantly met with all sorts of places to look. There were vintage lights hanging from the ceiling, tables packed with people at laptops, most likely studying for midterms, paintings and photographs on the wall, and waters making drinks. 

Jimmy scanned the room quickly. Not seeing Davy anywhere, he took a deep breath and walked up to the drink counter, trying to filter out some of the noise from around him. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and surveyed the menu. 

"A small iced vanilla latte, please," he told the girl behind the counter who, unsmiling, gave him change for the five dollar bill he handed her. He dropped the coins into the tip jar before moving away from the line.   
As he waited, he let his eyes continually move to the front door through which he'd entered. Until, at least, he heard his name called by the barista.   
Drink in hand, he turned around to see a slightly bewildered Davy step through the door. Jimmy waved at Davy, relieved, and pointed at a free two-person table he'd noticed earlier. Davy nodded, smiling, and they made for the table. 

"Hey, Jimmy," Davy greeted him formally. He put his hand on Jimmy's shoulder as he sat down, and Jimmy had to work to keep himself from blushing.

"Hi," he managed to say without squeaking. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Davy grinned. "I'm gonna get some coffee, and I'll be right back."

"Sounds good."

Jimmy stared at the wall as he waited for Davy to come back. No, it wasn't pathetic, he told the figment of Wayne that lived in his brain and seemed to manifest whenever the topic of Davy came up. It was practical. If there were too many things happening around him, then the wall could be comforting. Clean, not chaotic. Surely Wayne could understand that.   
He looked at the black and white photographs on the wall; pictures from another time, really, of bridges and cities and people.   
When he glanced at the drinks bar and saw that Davy was headed back over to the table, he reached for the copy of Great Expectations he had brought along, flipped to a random page, and began to read. Or pretend to read.   
Again, not pathetic. Practical. 

"Alright," Davy sat down, and the chair made a tiny screeching noise as it slid backwards on the tile floor. "How's your weekend been so far?"

Jimmy blinked, caught unawares by the personal question. "Not bad, um. I've done a lot of homework and school stuff this morning. Productive, but stressful." He paused for a moment, glad to have come up with something coherent, before realizing he should probably ask the question back. "How about yours?"

Davy nodded, eyes darting around the cafe as he considered the question. "Pretty good. I slept in this morning, which was nice. Hung out with friends last night, but didn't even drink at all. I wanted to be not-hungover so that we could work on this today."

Jimmy wanted to comment, but bit his tongue. Obviously Davy could control his drinking, so he'd say nothing. 

"You are beginning to reform me, Jimmy," Davy said, his eyebrows raising laughingly as he leaned forward. "It is a dangerous thing to reform any one."

"Was that a 'Lady Windermere's Fan' reference?" Jimmy asked, straightening his back. 

“Well yeah,” Davy shrugged. “I liked that play a lot.”

Jimmy smiled despite himself. “Me too,” he nodded, leaning on the table and mimicking Davy’s posture. “I love Oscar Wilde.”

“He’s hilarious, right?” Davy laughed slightly. “And like, his satire still applies to today, which is really incredible, considering the amount of time that’s passed.”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, his stories are really something else. I really appreciate his story, though, you know? I think being gay and successful in that time period means a lot to me. And then he’s kind of become a queer martyr, so-”

“Absolutely,” Davy’s eyes lit up, and he put his chin in his hand. “He’s kind of one of the first modern-ish queer artists, in a way, and that’s super important.”

A beat of silence passed in which Jimmy smiled at Davy and felt like he breathed for the first time since stepping into the coffee shop. He squeezed his cup and let the coldness relax his heated mind. 

“So,” Jimmy prompted. “The project?”

“Yeah!” Davy straightened up, and pulled a silver laptop out from his backpack. “I’ve got the script for our presentation on here. I was thinking we could just look it over?”

“Works for me.”

Davy pulled up the document and lined up the laptop so that both of them could see the screen. 

"So here, you can talk about Pip and his card, the jack, and how he-" Davy started, but Jimmy didn't listen much. 

He'd been so nervous to meet Davy at the coffee shop. Why? The easy and obvious answer was the crush, of course. But he'd been with a few guys in high school already, and gone on enough dates with most of them that he shouldn't be made anxious by just a crush. What made Davy any different from anyone else?  
He tried to think of a rational explanation. Davy was smarter than a lot of the guys he had been on dates with in the past. A few of them wouldn't have been able to hold their own in a literary discussion, and the only reason Jimmy hadn't broken up with them on the spot was how sweet they were. And it was one thing to be sweet to Jimmy, but it was another entirely to be engaged and interesting.   
But smart people didn't make Jimmy nervous. He knew he could go toe-to-toe with the best minds at their school - Davy included, probably - and come out of the scuffle with a win. 

Davy was talented, too. Could keep the rhythm like almost no one else. Methodical with his music, spontaneous with his personality. A dangerous cocktail, really. Especially for Jimmy, who could appreciate the method to the madness but still honestly craved some of the crazy. 

The looks didn't hurt. Blue eyes, tousled hair. Jimmy had been fucked from the first day. 

Despite all the nerves, Jimmy had gotten comfortable so quickly. The minute they started talking about Oscar Wilde and the play they’d read in class, most of his nerves had gone out the window. Davy was easy to talk to, he realized as he forced himself back into the conversation. 

“Does that seem good to you?” Davy asked. “I mean, do you feel like we covered everything?”

Jimmy shrugged, trying to seem earnest and interested, hoping he could mask his train of thought from a moment ago. “Yeah. I can’t think of anything else.”

“Cool, then I think we’re done,” Davy shut his laptop.

“So soon?” Jimmy looked down. He’d only just taken the last sip of coffee. 

Davy nodded, his head tilting to the side. “Yeah, I think so. We don’t have much left to do, really. We’ve been keeping a pretty good timetable.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I can go home then, finish up those cards,” Jimmy began to stand up. 

“Jimmy,” Davy interrupted. “You’re smarter than that, right?”

Jimmy sat back down, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Davy rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "that you're pretty smart, so you're probably smart enough to know that I could have sent you the link to the document and texted you to know what you thought of it."

He didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet.

"But I didn't do that. Extrapolate," Davy waved his hands, as if the answer was obvious.

"I'm - I'm not sure."

Davy curled his hand into a loose fist and touched his knuckles to his lips. "Really? You're going to make me spell it out for you." He sighed, smiled at Jimmy, and moved his hand away from his face. "I wanted to spend time with you. Get to know you better-"

"I really like you," Jimmy blurted before he could think better of it. "Like, I'm really into you."

Davy chuckled softly, and Jimmy noticed that he stuck his tongue out ever so slightly when he laughed in surprise. 

“Well that’s good,” Davy nodded matter-of-factly. “I thought I was going to have to say it before you did.”

Jimmy felt a warmth, a joyful peace, in his chest. "You like me too," he said, more as a statement of fact than a question. 

"I certainly didn't choose you as my partner for this just because Nick's a shitty partner to work with," Davy said in place of a real response, but it made Jimmy smile anyway. 

"Speaking of Nick," Jimmy held his hands out as if to press pause on the conversation. "Do you think he likes Wayne?"

Davy laughed. "Helplessly so, actually. Wayne drives him crazy, but I think it's the kind of crazy Nick likes. Do you think Wayne likes him back?"

Jimmy nodded, almost too quickly. "Yeah. Like, a lot. I don't think he knows it though, I think he and Nick are in this stage where they think they hate each other but it's actually just-"

"Sexual tension?"

"Yeah."

Davy hummed. "Thank god we never had the hating each other part, and skipped straight to the tension."

"I'm not sure you can say we went straight to anywhere," Jimmy pointed out.

 

“Well,” Davy shrugged and laughed, leaning over the table. 

Jimmy copied his movements, resting his forearms on the wooden table and meeting Davy halfway into the kiss, feeling the last shreds of anxiety about Davy, about the coffee shop, about the project and the world at large dissipate. 

“Yeah,” Davy laughed, shaking his head. “Screw Wayne and Nick. This is much better.”

Jimmy grinned, laughing silently into his hand. “I’m glad. That’s a glowing review,” he looked up at Davy. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Davy waved it away with a laugh. “But really, I’m happy this happened. Do you wanna-”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Davy smiled wider than Jimmy had ever seen before, and he knew he was right. Davy was different than anyone he’d known before, and that was more than exciting: it was enthralling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to write them kissing and I think it came out alright! Writing kisses is so hard.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE!!! I'VE WORKED SO HARD ON THIS LAST CHAPTER (it's a little ooc but I guess that's okay) AND IM SO GLAD IT'S GOING UP!

Wayne didn’t like to present projects so much. He’d get in front of a class, forget all of what he’d rehearsed - and yes, he did rehearse before every presentation, no matter how small - and stutter. His vision would blur, making it impossible to look at anyone in particular, and leaving everything about the audience’s reactions to his imagination. It was nothing like playing an instrument in front of a crowd; that was much easier. When he played trombone, he wasn’t the one being looked it. Rather, the vocalist for the band was the focus. No one cared about the trombone player nearly as much, which took all the pressure off.   
That was why group projects weren’t usually as bad. He could let the other person go first, add onto what they were saying, and let that be it. So maybe this one wouldn’t be so bad, if only Nick were actually at school.   
He hadn’t been seen all morning, and Wayne had been asking everyone he could. No one knew where he was or why he was missing, and that only made Wayne more and more nervous as the day went on. 

The bell rang for fifth period, and Wayne sat in AP Lit holding a giant book, staring at Nick’s desk like he could make Nick appear out of thin air if he just looked long enough. 

Mr. Bradford stood up. “Okay. Let’s go in reverse alphabetical order today, just for kicks.”

Shit.   
Well, at least Davy’s name started with Z, so he and Jimmy went first. Of course, their project was super interesting and creatively done, and Wayne didn’t miss the way the two of them giggled about little things, like everything was an inside joke. The way they looked at each other was sickening, really. They’d obviously gotten together. He’d laugh with Nick about it, saying that the two of them had called it, but-

The door opened, and the asshole in question walked in. All of Wayne’s anger faded when he saw how Nick looked. Pale, obviously in some sort of pain, Nick walked over and sat in the empty desk next to Wayne. 

“Hi,” he whispered, as Davy and Jimmy kept talking. “Had a shitty panic attack this morning and was too tired to get my ass to school. I’m here for this class and then I’m going back home, probably. I figured this was too important to miss.”

Wayne sighed. “That wasn’t quite an apology, but I know you were getting at one, so apology accepted.”

Nick smiled slightly, and Wayne continued whispering. “Thanks for coming, to do the project. It means a lot.”

This time, Nick didn’t smile. In fact, his face was completely expressionless. He sat in silence for a moment before elbowing Wayne in the side. “Hey,” he looked pointedly at Davy and Jimmy. “Didn’t we call it?”

Wayne felt a grin creep onto his face despite himself. “Yeah, we did.”

“Mr. Wright?” Mr. Bradford called after Davy and Jimmy had sat down. “You and your partner are next. And trust me,” he said as Wayne stood up. “I did hear you two talking, so don’t think I won’t be subtracting points off of your grade.”

Wayne tried to find it in him to care, he really did. Normally, that would have made him upset in some way. But today, for some reason, he didn’t find it that important. 

“Sorry,” Nick said for Wayne. “We were just trying to figure out some last minute details.”

Mr. Bradford pursed his lips, and Nick began talking as Wayne opened the book to show the class. Wayne focused on not looking at the class, instead trying to listen carefully to Nick talk. And when Nick turned to him, he added onto what Nick had said, trying to only focus on the boy ahead of him.   
Surprisingly, the tactic worked. He talked to Nick, just like he would have if they were working on the project together at Nick's house. Or, really, much nicer than he did when they were working on the project at Nick's house.   
Nick nodded back at him, giving him tiny bits of encouragement as Wayne spoke. It calmed him down, soothed his nerves that otherwise would have been going nuts. He never would have guessed that Nick would be the person to calm him down, but he certainly wasn't about to complain. 

When he was done talking, he looked at the class for the first time since he'd been up at the front. Jimmy was clapping hard, and so was Davy, both of them grinning widely. Wayne thought he saw the two of them exchange a knowing look, or maybe he saw Jimmy mouth 'told you so,' but he couldn't be sure.   
Regardless, he was just happy to be done. No more project, no more fighting with Nick-  
Pause. As Wayne handed their book to Mr. Bradford, he realized what that might mean. No more Nick? Was that really a good thing?

He sat down, expecting Nick to go sit back in his normal seat. Instead, he watched Nick impulsively try to go there, but hesitate and decide to follow Wayne instead. Nick sat down next to Wayne, where he had been before they’d gone up to present. Wayne looked over and smiled at Nick, and Nick smiled back, and Wayne felt better than he had in class in quite a while. 

-

After class, the two of them walked out together. Nick grabbed his phone from his pocket and clicked it open. 

"Hey," he laughed, looking at the screen. "Bradford's a fucking liar."

"Why?"

"He said he was going to deduct points from our presentation for talking, and he didn't."

Sure enough, Wayne saw as Nick passed him the phone, they'd gotten an A on the project. 

Wayne grinned. "Ninety-four, nice!" 

He heard Jimmy speak up from behind them. "You got a ninety-four? Good job!"

Nick pretended to preen under the complement. "Thank you, thank you, you as well." 

"Thanks," Davy laughed. "I haven't looked to see what we got though, yet, so don't speak too soon."

"Oh," Wayne nodded at Davy and Jimmy's hands, which were intertwined. "And congratulations."

Jimmy turned bright red, but Davy brushed it off. "Thank you, thank you," he echoed. "You as well."

Then it was Wayne's turn to blush. "What are you-"  
Before he could finish his sentence, Jimmy and Davy turned the corner, walking away from Nick and Wayne. 

"Assholes," Nick shook his head. 

Wayne laughed and rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, I’m sure he was just kidding.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Are you going home now? Or do you feel well enough to stay?” he asked Nick, tilting his head. 

Nick shrugged. “I probably should go home. I’m not super tired, but I don’t know if I can do-” he checked the clock on his phone “-two and a half more hours.”

Wayne nodded. “I get that, I’ve had those days.” He started to say goodbye, but Nick cut him off. 

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked, all his words mashing together. “I’m too tired to stay, but you don’t make me tired, you make me kinda happy, and spending time with you is.” He stopped, and sighed. “Do you want to come with me?”

Wayne’s shoulders dropped, his heart melting his posture from the inside out. “I’d like to, but I should really go to class. I’ve missed a lot of school already and I can’t skip, even if I really, really,” he looked Nick in the eyes and smiled, “really want to.”

Nick smiled, and his chest rose and fell heavily. “Well, could you be a little late to your next class? I know you hate it, but maybe it could be worth it, once.”

“What would make being late worth it? I’m not so sure about that,” Wayne tried to joke, but there was no bite to what normally would have been serious.

Nick stood up onto the tips of his toes, and Wayne didn’t need to think to know that this was where he was supposed to lean down. His mind went numb, unable to think of anything besides “yes, finally, how it’s supposed to be.”

Nick stepped back, and Wayne had to stop himself from following. “I should let you go to class, so you’re not too late,” Nick smiled. “But um, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wayne breathed heavily. “Yeah, you’re making me really nervous about a tardy. You know I’ve never actually gotten one before.”

“Seriously? That’s nuts.”

He rolled his eyes and gave Nick a goodbye kiss on the cheek. “But you get out of here and get some rest.”

“Okay, okay, crazy,” Nick said, pushing his hair back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Wayne waved, and couldn’t stop smiling as he all but ran to his next class.   
He even evaded being seen by the teacher as he came in late, and wasn’t marked tardy. He was untouchable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm done with this, I'd love some Bandstand fic prompts on tumblr @aintweproudriff!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought, it would make my day, or come chat on tumblr @aintweproudriff or @lesbianpomatter.


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